


Dandelion Fields

by GreyySeal



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Confessions, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Geraskier, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, One-Shot, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, idiots to lovers, tw alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24320539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyySeal/pseuds/GreyySeal
Summary: I really loved the No Place Like Home quest, and I wondered what it would be like with Jaskier causing trouble.The boys get drunk, and Jaskier has a hard time holding back his feelings for the White Wolf. Geralt puts up his walls, and drunken whispers are shared.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 148





	Dandelion Fields

Jaskier had been at Kaer Morhen for a couple days when Lambert suggested drinking. Like, really drinking. Eskel grumbled, acting like he wasn’t looking forward to the coming night. Geralt raised an eyebrow, and Jaskier beamed. The bard liked to drink, it was a good way to loosen up. It loosened tongues as well, which meant Geralt was more liable to tell him stories, in detail.

It was after dinner that the devious men scurried off to their table by the fire, stained with wine. Yennefer and Vesemir looked to each other with raised eyebrows, knowing exactly how crazy the Witchers and their bard were going to get. The Witchers took shots, competing with each other. Geralt warned Jaskier beforehand that a Witcher could hold his liquor better than any drunkard or Oxenfurt student on break, so Jaskier let himself nurse a mixed drink. He wanted to compete, he always did. He wanted to prove himself among the Witchers, that he could handle a few shots. It didn’t take too long, of course, for Lambert to turn his terrors onto the bard.

“Jaskier! Three shots in a row, come on.” Lambert took each of the Witchers’ shot glasses and filled them in front of the bard. “Catch up, big guy.” 

Lambert’s snark and smirk was enough to reel in the competitive bastard that was Jaskier. He took each shot like a champ, downing them with ease, though his face twisted and he groaned in disgust.

“Fuck, that’s foul,” he snarled, his lips curling like a wolf. He really did not like the taste. “Ugh...burns. Good to get drunk or die, one of the two.”

“Both, if Lambert keeps you taking shots like the best of ‘em,” Geralt growled, taking the bottle and his own shot glass. He pulled out another bottle from beside him, some strong Cintran ale. “We’re going a bit slower than that. Once those shots hit us, we’re good as dead.”

Geralt smiled, showing just a bit of teeth as he refilled their mugs with the drink. Jaskier stared for just a moment before tearing his gaze away, drinking half of his ale in one go. Eskel eyed Jaskier over his own mug knowingly, bus Jaskier ignored him. The group was buzzed, Jaskier blinking just a little bit slower.

“Where did you get Cintran ale like this?” Geralt murmured, clearly a fan of the drink. “Ain’t it a bit expensive for Vesemir?”

“That’s because it's mine,” Lambert purred, feeling the effects of the alcohol. “I have expensive tastes, Ger.”

“Judging by your clothing? I wouldn’t say so.”

“Oho!” Lambert gestured grandly towards the bard before leaning on the table. “Armor can’t be useful and pretty enough for a bard, now can it?”

“You don’t see Geralt walking around like that. Or Eskel for that matter,” Jaskier chuckled, hiding his teasing smile behind his mug.

“Oh, clever bastard,” Lambert sneered, but then there was a genuine smile. Someone he could exchange banter with without anyone getting too butthurt. Even Eskel had his limits. “At least I can keep up with a lightweight like Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt grunted, hunkering down and drinking his ale. Jaskier gasped and leaned into Geralt, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

“Oh my darling Witcher, you never told me you couldn’t hold a candle to your brothers when it came to hooch,” the bard teased, earning a gentle shove from his companion.

“Shut it, bard.”

Jaskier beamed. There was no malice behind the White Wolf’s words, as usual. In the last few years of their thirty year friendship, Geralt had become a bit more open, more gentle. The bard tamed the beast, some said, but there was no beast to be tamed. Geralt, as well as the other Witchers, were all human. Geralt was just hurt, and he didn’t know how to deal with emotions. Now, at least, he was a bit better. He embraced them with a bit more ease than before, but he still struggled with talking about them. Jaskier had been patient and gentle as ever, never pushing more than he thought he could. The bard was still a bit afraid that Geralt would turn on him like he had at the mountain, but Geralt did his best to dissuade Jaskier’s fears. The Witcher would get Jaskier leather bound notebooks when his others became full, handing them over with a grunt. Jaskier kept every one, a total of five when they arrived at Kaer Morhen. In the last village, Jaskier decided he should repay his debt and bought Geralt a new silver sword, a durable blade with runes and a dandelion carved into it. Geralt hadn’t let the sword out of his sight since, and Jaskier counted that as a win. The bard was torn from his thoughts when Lambert slammed down his mug.

“More!”

\----

The night wore on, and the group was thoroughly drunk. Geralt took a deep breath before speaking.

“Alright, let’s play a game. Never have I ever,” he mumbled, barely decipherable. “I’ll start. Never have I ever...um...fuck.” This earned a giggle from the bard next to him, causing the corners of his mouth to twitch. “Never have I ever...passed out in a stable?”

His partners drank, except for Eskel. He held himself together pretty well, so Geralt wasn’t surprised. He gestured to Eskel, who hummed in thought.

“Never have I ever...stolen a horse.”

Geralt and Jaskier drank, and the White Wolf nudged his friend.

“You stole a horse?”

“Of course, I needed one to save you from that gods awful prison,” Jaskier slurred. “You’re lucky. Coulda been hung for that.”

“Hm.” Geralt clapped a hand on the bard’s shoulder, leaning back to look him in the eye, a surprising feat due to his drunkenness. “That’s why you’re my best friend, Jask. You deserve better than this.”

“This is just fine.”

Jaskier grabbed onto Geralt’s arm and smiled fondly -- no, it couldn’t be fond. Geralt was never the recipient of fond smiles. Except he was, all of the time. He noticed it over the fire when they camped together while he was sharpening his blade, or when Jaskier would glance over during one of his performances. Geralt had convinced himself that he wasn’t deserving of such fondness, something he wanted for so long. He gazed at Jaskier for a long moment before Geralt pulled his hand away and turned his head, avoiding eye contact. His walls were up again.

It was Lambert’s turn.

“Never have I ever! Sang about Witchers!” he sneered, watching Jaskier.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and took a drink. “Never have I ever,” he hummed, thinking deeply for a moment before looking up with a smile. “...slept with a man. No shame, lads.”

Each of the Witchers drank, causing Jaskier to raise an eyebrow.

Geralt put a hand up and stood, standing like a newborn foal with slightly bowed legs.

“I think that’s enough for tonight. If I don’t cut off the bard now, he’ll die of alcohol poisoning,” Geralt muttered, clapping a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “Chop chop, buddy. It's bedtime.”

“We’re buddies?” Jaskier slurred, smiling up at the Witcher.

“Yeah, you’re best pals, now get to bed. We’ll all regret this in the morning,” Eskel hummed, taking another drink from his mug.

“No no no,” Jaskier chuckled, standing and taking a stance, swaying on his feet. “You lot have to catch me first.”

The bard took off, surprisingly fleet on his feet. All three Witchers followed, but quickly lost him. Geralt leaned against the wall and groaned.

“Damn it...he went this way...I think…” Geralt grumbled, leading the drunken ducklings towards where Jaskier scurried off to.

The trio made their way to one of the towers, stumbling up the stairs to find the bard digging through Yennefer’s chests. Jaskier came up to Lambert with a rather exquisite dress, pushing it against his chest, the two men stumbling.

“Lambert, you would look....stunning in this…” Jaskier snickered.

“Geralt, you told him about--”

“No!” Geralt snapped, glad that Jaskier didn’t latch onto Eskel’s question.

He and Lambert were too busy digging through Yennefer’s clothes. Jaskier wasted no time handing a flattering dress to Eskel, and another to Geralt.

“I wanted a plunging neckline,” Eskel pouted as Geralt fit himself into the dress. “You put Geralt in that for your own pleasure!”

Geralt covered himself like a noblewoman caught with a lover, feigning hurt.

“What? Never!” Jaskier giggled, placing a hand on Geralt’s arm as he pulled on an extravagant dress that was usually left for feasts or banquets. “Darling, tell them I would never do that.”

“You absolutely would, you liar,” Geralt hissed, pouting.

“Alright, darlings,” came a feminine voice, and the men looked up to see Yennefer stride in. Jaskier walked to her and enveloped her in a tight hug, causing the sorceress to grumble. “You all need to go to bed. Without my clothes.”

“Not even gonna buy us dinner first?” A swift punch to the arm. “Ow!”

\----

Jaskier stumbled and fell onto the stone floor of the hallway leading to his room. The group giggled and gently prodded at Jaskier. Geralt kneeled down and rubbed his back, causing the bard to hum.

“You alright, Jask?” Geralt mumbled, slowly pulling Jaskier up. He struggled to balance both himself and Jaskier, but he could do it. “Come on, buddy. Off to bed!”

“I’m tired, Geralt...We drank too much…” Jaskier mumbled, leaning against his beloved Witcher. He clutched Geralt’s shirt, taking in the Witcher’s warmth, his scent, his touch. He could savor it for now. “Where’s your room?”

“Um…” Geralt looked a bit lost, only able to really make out Eskel and Lambert ahead, and the only door with a lit torch outside of it. “I…”

“Stay with me then,” the bard murmured as they got to the door, holding himself up against the wall. “I’ve got room.”

Geralt grunted, and Jaskier decided not to push it. Perhaps he was driving Geralt away again, but they had shared beds before. When coin was short, or nights too cold to sleep alone, they didn’t shy away from sleeping together. They were comfortable with each other, but there was an unspoken tension. What it meant, Jaskier couldn’t say for sure. He could hope, but not much else.

Geralt helped Jaskier inside and sat him on a velvety red chair, slightly dull from age. He took off his shoes before his own, and then stripped Jaskier of his doublet and undershirt. Geralt found a nightshirt and put it on Jaskier before taking the bard to his bed. Jaskier crumpled into the bed, flopping onto his side and staring up at Geralt.

“You’re the most divine creature, bless Melitele,” he breathed, his eyes shining.

Geralt’s heart seized in his chest, staring down at his bard. He took in the sight below him; the bard looked up to him with cornflower blue eyes, his mousy brown hair strewn across his forehead. Despite the years, Jaskier looked young as ever. His eyes grew old, and he looked more tired some days. Like he had lived the contracts over and over again, drowner after ghoul after vampire. Because he had. He stayed for Geralt, for the adventure and what nights over the fire it would bring, to see if Geralt could keep count of the fond smiles the bard threw his way. Jaskier patted the bed beside him, breaking the Witcher from his trance. Geralt would have flushed if he were a normal man; it was hard to ignore the desperate thumping in his chest at the sight of Jaskier’s dazzling eyes. 

He found his way beside Jaskier and tucked them in, humming with content.

“Jaskier.” His voice was soft, softer than Jaskier ever heard it. “What did you say? Just a minute ago…”

“That you’re the most divine creature,” Jaskier whispered, turning his head to face Geralt, who continued to keep his eyes up on the ceiling. “You really are, Geralt. Your hair is like starlight, and your eyes shine like dandelion fields. Your voice is like the sound of sand beneath your feet, and your heart a guarded treasure. I can’t imagine life without you. I fear it’d be terribly dull.”

Geralt looked to Jaskier then, his eyes watery in the dim torch light. The bard propped himself up on his elbow and brushed the Witcher’s hair back, smiling with that impossible fondness. There was no denying it now. Geralt reached up and let his fingers slide over Jaskier’s cheek before settling there, and the bard leaned into his touch.

“Geralt...I know we’re pretty drunk and we might regret this tomorrow, but I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

“Please do,” Geralt hummed, allowing himself to return such a warm smile, that and his words taking Jaskier aback.

The bard leaned in slowly, his hand finding Geralt’s jaw. Their lips met, and it sent what was like a shockwave through each of them. It was gentle, soft and almost hesitant.

“You won’t leave me, right?” Jaskier whispered, almost muttering a prayer.

“Never.”

The pair kissed again, less hesitance in it. When they pulled away, they settled into the blankets and Jaskier put his arms around his old friend and newfound lover. The Witcher curled into the bard, baring himself to Jaskier completely.

“I love you,” Geralt murmured into his lover’s soft shirt. “You brought yellow into my life, Jaskier. I noticed dandelions whenever we parted. I loved the sun openly and I found nothing lovelier than yellow cloth. You brought me so much and I can never tell you how much I love you. I never talked before you. Now I can be worse than you sometimes.”

Jaskier clutched Geralt to his chest, feeling strong arms wrap around him. “You know...you brought me enough death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak to last me a hundred lifetimes. I would never ask for anything to change. I’ve loved you for so long and wanted nothing more than for my dearest Geralt to be happy. I accepted that was without me, but...I can really love you like this. To kiss you, touch your face and neck. Kiss you some more. Let’s talk about all this tomorrow. We’re too far gone to do much more than hold each other.”

“Then let’s do that.”

“Hm...good plan.”


End file.
